These tears which better measure all.
Like wat'ry lines and plummets fall.
Two tears, with sorrow long did weigh,
Within the scales of either eye,
And then paid out in equal poise,
Are the true price of all my joys.
What in the world most fair appears,
Yea, even laughter, turns to tears:
And all the jewels which we prize,
Melt in these pendents of the eyes.
I have through every garden been,
Amongst the red, the white, the green;
And yet from all those flow'rs I saw,
No honey, but these tears could draw.
So the all-seeing sun each day,
Distils the world with chemic ray;
But finds the essence only showers,
Which straight in pity back he pours.
Yet happy they whom grief doth bless,
That weep the more, and see the less;
And, to preserve their sight more true,
Bathe still their eyes in their own dew.
So Magdalen, in tears more wise
Dissolv'd those captivating eyes,
Whose liquid chains could flowing meet,
To fetter her Redeemer's feet.
Not full sails hasting loaden home,
Nor the chaste lady's pregnant womb,
Nor Cynthia teeming shows so fair,
As two eyes, swoln with weeping, are